


Prey

by Justcannibalthings



Category: Original Work
Genre: Murder, everything i write is gay porn or murder, or Both, so much murder
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-13
Updated: 2017-02-13
Packaged: 2018-09-24 03:30:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9697655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Justcannibalthings/pseuds/Justcannibalthings
Summary: There was blood everywhere. It flew around me in a wonderfully erratic pattern, sticking me to like ice sticks to a dry cloth. Once clean metal pierced once pure flesh over and over and with each stab, with each thrust I felt myself becoming more and more like the caged animal inside. Allowed to run rampant like Jekyll and Hyde swapped places, like evil was allowed to roam free, if for just a second.





	

There was blood everywhere. It flew around me in a wonderfully erratic pattern, sticking me to like ice sticks to a dry cloth. Once clean metal pierced once pure flesh over and over and with each stab, with each thrust I felt myself becoming more and more like the caged animal inside. Allowed to run rampant like Jekyll and Hyde swapped places, like evil was allowed to roam free, if for just a second.

When the light is no longer created by the reflection cast against the left over rubble from an explosion long ago, and when I can no longer hide behind the shadows, I have to go back inside my cage. I sit on trains and push metaphorical pencils, but I am not there, I am inside my cage. This body is just a vessel for the beast inside, waiting until nightfall to morph, to shift into something more beautiful. The only thing that keeps me going is the comforting images of last night’s prey, writhing in pain and covered in an all natural sauce of crimson, a delicacy seconded only by the meat itself.

Sometimes I like to bathe in it; to bask in the glory and surround myself with their essence. I climb into the tub and lie there, chin deep sometimes. It makes me feel so wonderfully impure, so natural. The way an animal should. The idea of simply dipping my head down to enjoy the scarlet honey is just an added bonus.

It was an ordinary Wednesday when it happened. I hate Wednesdays. They’re far enough away from Monday that the enjoyment of the previous weekend has worn off, and yet not close enough to the coming one to put any extra vigour into your step. In any case, it was on this particular Wednesday that the disgustingly mundane activities finally got the best of me. I, if you will excuse the cliché, had finally snapped.

It started with Beth from accounting, I never liked Beth. I would say she ate like a pig, but at least pigs have an excuse in their lack of opposable thumbs. No, Beth from accounting was a vile cretin of a creature, and I know that I was doing the world a favour by putting her to better use. It took me ages to clean up after, she wouldn’t stop wriggling. Typical.

Because of the inconvenience Beth had caused, I was still just as stressed, if not more so than before I had disposed of her, and as a result I had no choice but to have myself a bloodbath. I mean that both in the figurative and literal sense, I made use of both Georgia and Zackary from packing, as well as Juliet, the foul tempered receptionist. They filled my bath nicely, and provided me with a delectable feast fit for the leader of the finest of packs. As I sunk down into the wine like liquid I felt the stress of it all melt away. I felt at one with the beast inside, this somewhat unorthodox method was the only thing that could quell the monster inside, apart from of course, the hunting. Unfortunately, my night time habits were becoming increasingly well known. Despite being desperate to unleash the creature inside, I had always been careful with my selection of prey. Taking those who wouldn’t be missed and who had no obvious link to me. It is at the point when I was lying in the spills of my conquests that I came to the realisation that it may not have been a good idea to kill those so close to me, I had to devise a plan.

I decided not to hand in a notice, but to instead just disappear. Hopefully they’ll assume I’m just another one of what the news are referring to as victims. I’m not an idiot, I knew that I’d get caught and decided to leave sooner rather than later. I decided on Norway, it’s big enough for me to have plenty of possible prizes on offer, but rural enough for me to obtain residence somewhere far enough away to remain fairly anonymous. When I stepped off the plane I was overpowered by the stench. Sweaty bodies swarmed and convulsed, almost as one singular entity, desperate to get out of the airport and on their ways. I try to avoid the young, they’re far too rich, but the sight of their tiny excited faces caused my hands to try to eat themselves. As claws dug into my palms in an attempt to hold the cage shut, I quickened my pace and slipped out into the cool Norwegian air. The chatter of the public began to blend into the satisfying crunch of the blanket beneath my feet. Footsteps left tracks in the snow, which would most definitely make tracking prey considerably easier. This was the new start I needed.

I have settled nicely on the outskirts of a village, its location is perfect and I can be into the nearest city and back in about an hour and a half, sometimes even less if the prey isn’t too stubborn. I’ve cut my hunting down, but only to avoid suspicion, unfortunately, this means there’s never enough blood for a decent bath. I feel myself enjoying the chase more and the aftermath less so; it’s something I didn’t really notice until recently.

I got sloppy. That stupid animal let out the most ghastly of noises while I dragged him from the and I knew it was over. There’s no way they didn’t hear it. I can see a torch light, clearly looking for the origin of the scream. Part of me says they might not realise it was you, he might not recognise your face, but I know they will. I’m sure the zebras always remember the lions even if they survive, but it’s at this point I realise I’ve never been a lion, my prey aren’t zebras. I am a mongoose and they are snakes, and it’s their turn to feed.


End file.
